First To Call
by niggah itz gary
Summary: He had been the first to call eleven years ago, and now eleven years later Alfred is wondering whether or not Ivan too has forgotten that day, and will break the tradition. 911 tribute And now with the tragedy in Boston, this fic will be a tribute to the cooperation between Russia and America on terrorism.
1. Don't Forget

There were many reasons Alfred didn't feel like waking up today. Today was just the day that eleven years ago, everything he had ever stood for was completely tarnished. He couldn't be the hero. He had failed.

This day was always filled with sympathy and heartache from other nations. Calling or coming over to express their complete and utter regret over what had happened that day. But as time passed, so did everyones remeberance, their hope. Being replaced by a new generation of fears, and dreams, September 11, 2001 was soon fading into memory, yet the scars never faded. They never would.

Alfred remembered the day unlike any other. He was in the White House watching t.v.

…..

The pain hit him, hard. He didn't know what was happening. He could hear the screams in his head, the sheer terror, the smell. The smell got him. The thick smoke, the burns, the pain. He could hear that the t.v. had switched stations, and could only make out that the reporter had said something about World Trade Center, and a plane.

'No, not this, not now,' Alfred thought. Just as he was about to get up he fell again, only to realize another plane had hit the other tower. This wasn't an accident anymore, not some fluke by some inexperienced piolet. This was an attack. On him.

Through the pain, the smoke, and the screams that would not go away, he could feel people around him, picking him up trying to move him to the safe zone. Then the Pentagon got hit, and this time Alfred blacked out.

He was in a hospital bed, with bandeges head to toe. He had slept the remainder of the day in nightmares. He checked his phone. Over 134 messages and 120 missed calls. Alfred started with the first voice mail, it was the first call made to him after the attack.

"Yes, Alfred da? Are you okay? Well of course your not. Look I know we have had some difficult times but, please sunflower lets put that aside for now. I express my deepest sympathy for you and your people. Russia and America will unite in effort to find the person that did this. Please get well my beautiful sunflower."

…

Russia had been the first to call that day. He called before England, called before Japan. Russia was the first one.

It soon became a tradition, every year Alfred would wake early in the morning sometimes it was even 12:00 A.M. to Ivan calling on the phone asking if he was okay. Sometimes Ivan would avoid the topic completely in order to save the American some pain, and they would just make small talk.

This year however, the Russian did not call, and Alfred was feeling down. Maybe Ivan's memory of that day was also fading. Maybe Alfred would soon be the only one to remember this day.

A knock on the door shoock alfred out of his thoughts. How did anyone know he was here? This was his private home in Washington State. He told everyone he was staying in New York.

Alfred got up, and slipped on his bomber jacket, running a hand through his ruffled hair, and putting his glasses on his face. He went to the door and opened it. Standing there was Ivan, with a big bouquet of sunflowers, he was wearing his trademark scarf and coat. His violet eyes met Alfreds blue ones. "I figured this time I would do it right. You don't deserve to be alone today. Ive expressed my condolences, now let me show them da."

Alfred ran down and hugged the Russian, the contrast between their cold and hot bodies igniting a nice atmosphere. "Thank you", Alfred said with tears streaming down his face. "Thank you."


	2. Boston part 1

April 15, 2013.

He thought everything was fine. He thought everything would get better. Of course he was going through some troubling times right now, but still he was America, and things would get better.

Or so he thought.

Massachussetts was busy at the Marathon in Boston, and Alfred figured he could pay her a visit. She was so happy that the marathon had been going smoothly. Besides Alfred needed to do something to take his mind off of his recent spat with Russia.

He was all ready to go, he put his jacket on, and was heading out to the airport, leaving the White House. Then he stopped. He had that same feeling. That same sickening feeling he got years ago, minutes before New York was attacked. And then….he collapsed.

* * *

First there were the voices. "What about Massachusetts?! Where is she?!" "Calm down, she is in the hospital, she is in a coma." "Do we know who did it?" "No….no we don't" "Mr. President, you need to address the nation." "Ok, I'm coming, tell Alfie, that it's going to be okay."

Wait…who did what? What's wrong with Massachusetts?

* * *

Ivan was at the Kremlin when he got the news. Even through the tough times that he and Alfred had, he had a strange feeling, a strong sense of dread. He new how Alfred was about terrorists, he knew how Alfred would act. But for some reason, he felt as if this time, the attacks, would hit a little close to home. His home.


	3. Boston part 2

Chechnya.

Chechnya is where the ones who attacked Alfred came from. Of course they were naturalized American, but they still came from Chechnya.

Chechnya also hurt Ivan. And no matter how bad relations between American and Russia had been over the past few months. No matter how many lists of names, or how many laws were passed, Ivan still felt that he should...comfort Alfred. That he should do something. Chechnya denies having any involvement in the attack. But it doesn't matter, they hurt America, they hurt Alfred, his Alfred. Wait...

* * *

Alfred was confused for the longest time. There were so many rumors and speculations about the bombers. So many questions had been asked, and he couldn't answer them.

Then he found out where they were born. Who they were. Chechnya. Chechnya? It rung a bell, he had heard that name before. From Russia.

* * *

_"You are very dense Amerika. You know as well as I do what terrorism feels like." Alfred wouldn't back down. "It doesn't matter! All they want is freedom, they are just fighting for independence! You are being to mean Russia!" Ivan started to grow irritated. Why could Alfred just not see the truth. _

_"Amerika, you dare sit here and justify the actions of these "rebels", while they have killed my people? Chechnya has no idea what it is doing, you have no idea what they are doing, you have no right to speak for something that you know nothing about."_

_Alfred did not want to say it, had not meant to say it, but did anyway, "IS THAT WHAT YOU THOUGHT WHEN EVERYONE LEFT! LAST TIME I CHECKED, FORCEFULLY KEEPING SOMEONE AROUND, DOSEN'T WORK RUSSIA. HISTORY SPEAKS FOR ITSELF."_

_Ivan did not respond. Instead opting to walk out and leave. But he would never forget, could not forget, the odd coldness that came seeping back into his heart. _

* * *

Well...shit. Alfred was in total shock. Complete shock. He didn't know if Russia had called yet. But he need to talk to him. He didn't care about the feud they had going at the moment, all he wanted was to talk to Russia. Talking to him, hearing his voice, seemed to help in times like this.

And then he called.

"Ivan! ...hey, Hey what's up?" Alfred said nervously, and in slight pain from the wounds of the attack that were starting to heal.

"Da, Alfred, I heard about the identity of the bombers. I...want to ask you something."

"Yeah what is it?"

"We need to start working together. We need things to be like they were in the past. I am coming over now."

"Oh...oh really? Ok cool, and hey...uh Ivan? Thanks...for calling."

Ivan smiled to himself. Silly American didn't think that he would call. "Da, do not worry, I was the first to call last time, was I not?"


End file.
